Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1) Read online

  relentless

  Nancy J. Alexander

  i.

  Copyright © 2014 NJA Productions

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 1500298522

  ISBN-13: 978-1500298524

  i.

  CONTENTS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  EXHIBIT I – MAP OF RAINES FAMILY FARM

  EXHIBIT II - MAP OF CRIME SPREE

  THE LOFT

  THE DOCTOR

  ALARM

  LULLABY

  THE FAMILY FARM

  COLLISIONS

  SAFE HAVEN

  THE THERAPIST

  OPERATING ROOM

  FLOODGATES

  THE HUNTERS

  COFFEE BREAK

  THE FOCUS

  THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED

  RETRIEVAL

  THE SCENT

  THE CHASE

  INTUITION

  PREPARATIONS

  CONFIDENCES

  DOUBLE TROUBLE

  EVIDENCE

  THE PARKLAND KILLERS

  THE GRAPEVINE

  ESCAPE

  JANE AND JUDY

  HIDEOUT

  CLUES

  ELEMENTS

  INSIGHT

  PUZZLE PIECES

  SYNTHESIZING

  DOMINOES

  LOVE AND LOYALTY

  POLICEWORK

  CROSSROADS

  COOKIE CRUMBS

  LOOSE ENDS

  DO OR DIE

  WATCHFUL EYES

  PIGTAIL CURVE

  TRAILS

  CALL IN THE DOGS

  VANTAGE POINT

  HOMEGROWN HEROES

  ALL THAT REMAINS

  ULTIMATUM

  ROLL OF THE DICE

  TIES THAT BIND

  THE WINDY CITY

  DEDUCTIONS

  NEXT STOP

  TICK TOCK

  RE-GROUPING

  TERMINAL CONNECTIONS

  RESURRECTION

  TOUCHING BASE

  THE WIZARD OF OZ

  THE NICK-OF-TIME

  NEWS CONFERENCE

  BIRD’S EYE VIEW

  RENDEVOUS

  ALLIANCES

  VISITATIONS

  STAKEOUT!

  JUGGERNAUT

  PAYING THE PIPER

  HIGH 5!

  SPRINGTIME

  JACK IN THE BOX

  APPLE SEEDS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, I want to thank my cousins Pam Viener and Cindy Viener-Hoff. Your continual interest, enthusiasm, uplifting support and encouragement got me started on my creative venture. Your willingness to listen to my readings and re-writes, your smiling faces, warmth, interest, humor and occasional criticisms kept me going. As my cheerleaders you should know that without you, none of this would have happened. You have my deepest gratitude for believing in me and my ‘writer’ within.

  I would also like to thank Tiffany Carter. Tiffany, you are the glue and the catalyst. I am grateful to you for your dedication, hard work and your clear critical analyses. Without your drive and guidance, none of this would have happened. Your deep insights, knowledge about my characters and twisting plots, not to mention your tech support skills have been invaluable.

  To Ashley Taylor of Inspired Statements, I want to say thank you for your high energy, your creativity and your willingness to guide me through the mysterious world of marketing. I completely trust that your knowledge and enthusiasm will catapult Relentless into the public eye.

  To my audio-engineer, Julian Comanda, I say Wow! Your perfect pitch and dedication to helping to create a ‘perfect product’ has guided my life as an audio book narrator through five lengthy complex audio-books that are making their way to the listening audience. Your perseverance is amazing matched only by your much needed and greatly appreciated patience!

  To my great niece, Maggie Siegel-Berele, I say your unique artistic style helped bring this novel to life. Thank you for your flexibility and ingenuity and helping me create my first thriller.

  A special thank you goes to my patients who have over the years shared their traumatic, confusing life experiences with me. Thank you for trusting me to help you; through the process you allowed me to gain insight into your hearts and minds and through you to the complex world of troubled family dynamics and child abuse. You inspired me to tell your collective stories with sensitivity and understanding. It is my passionate hope that through these novels we can raise public consciousness about child abuse, the need for increased child protective services, family therapy, mental health services and nationally effective legislation that will enable vastly improved services to become a reality.

  EXHIBIT I – MAP OF RAINES FAMILY FARM

  By Maggie Siegel-Berele

  EXHIBIT II - MAP OF CRIME SPREE

  By Maggie Siegel-Berele

  Relentless

  CHAPTER 1

  THE LOFT

  The little girl lay under the hay stack scarcely breathing. Sweat poured down her face and dripped into her eyes; her heart pounded through her thin chest. Tiny flecks of hay clung to her wet skin, making her itch. She squeezed her nose tightly afraid she’d sneeze. Eyes clamped shut, she lay there. Flies buzzed around her, crawling insects crawled on her. She didn’t move. She didn’t know how long she’d been there in the loft. She didn’t care how long she stayed. She could not move. Not yet.

  She listened carefully to the sounds around her trying to identify them. Chickens scratched about, cows rustled trying to get out of the afternoon sun. She heard the tractor chugging through the corn field over the hill. A dog barked, shrill in the muggy air. The weight of the hay pile pressed down on her small back. Still she waited, listening, eyes shut, fingers gripping her nose, breath shallow.

  Then she heard them. Footsteps! Alarm shot through her body like a lightning bolt. They were coming for her. The cousin and his friends... They were coming for her. She heard their leather boots on the mud and gravel, clumping steadily in her direction, just outside the barn. She heard them whispering to each other. “Did you look in here?” one asked. “Yea but that was hours ago, she could be here now.” “Wait till I get my hands on her,” the cousin said. The others chuckled, “Yea, just wait till we get our hands on her. Ha, ha, ha…”

  Her heart thudded as she held her breath. She heard them enter the barn and start looking for her. Tears crept into her eyes, she felt like she was going to wet herself. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” she heard them chanting.” “Reggie Lee, we’re looking for you!” “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” three sing-song voices taunted her. She heard them rifling through the storage bins and moving things around. She heard the cows complain as the boys pushed through, disturbing them.

  She was motionless. They began climbing the steps to the loft. “Get that pitchfork,” one of them said. She heard them slashing through the bales of hay getting closer and closer. She had to run now. She had to get away before they jammed that pitchfork into her, before they got their hands on her. ‘Run,’ she told herself, ‘Run.’ She burst out the far side of the pile of hay where she’d been hiding. She heard them scream and charge after her. Running for her life, she flung herself out the open loft door falling, screaming ……

  CHAPTER 2

  THE DOCTOR

  The nursery was bustling with activity. Babies cried; nurses floated through the space, the loudspeaker demanded to be heard in several languages. Florescent ceiling lights hummed, enfolding the space with constant background noise. Tiny clear, plastic basinets with their neatly organized shelves holding infant clothing, diapers and hats lined pale green walls. In the center of each cluster sat padded
wooden rockers; cheerful pink and blue animals hung swaying in the air. Two nursing stations, sported long, spacious counters studded with computer terminals, phones and reference books, stood at opposite ends of the room. Moveable metal carts loaded with patient charts and lifesaving equipment punctuated the space. Flashing monitors and intermittent mechanical ‘beep beeps’ added their tones to the mêlée. Bewildered parents rocked their infants or wandered about seeking comfort. This hospital with its fine staff and state of the art equipment specialized in crippling birth defects and lethal diseases.

  Her fingers sped across the keyboard as she sat typing patient notes and medication orders into a terminal. Gina Reynolds, MD racing the clock tuned everything out. She didn’t hear the babies crying; she didn’t hear the nursing staff chatting around her. Azure blue eyes locked onto the monitor, she was aware only of her thoughts and the words she typed. The room and everything in it blurred, fading into oblivion. She was alone in the midst of calmly frantic activity. At 34, Dr. Reynolds was a highly respected neonatologist having graduated at the top her class from the University of Chicago Medical School. She sighed as she logged off and looked around her. Now she absorbed everything she saw. She was brilliant, focused and completely dedicated to her work. She loved these babies - who were so very sick. She cared deeply for their families. She felt their pain and sadness. She wept with them when the babies were too sick to recover. She attended their funerals. She visited their homes when they recovered and were discharged. She was grateful for this job, for this opportunity to make a difference in the world. This was her mission, her life. She was a doctor. She could hardly believe it. It sounded unreal, but it was true. She was a doctor. It had been a long, hard road, unbelievable really, but she had made it and here she was.

  Looking around at the nursery, a surge of emotion pulsed through her body. ‘It’s a miracle’ she thought. I am so grateful that I’m here and I’m safe.’ Flashes of memory whizzed through her mind. She remembered herself barely a teen, shivering on the doorstep of her school counselor’s house, pounding on the door with her frozen fists. She recalled the freezing wind battering her soaking wet body and how her skin tingled as the warmth of the kitchen enveloped her. She remembered clutching the soft towels as Mrs. Goodwin wrapped her up, how she thought she would never be warm again. She remembered the steam from the teacup, the scent of the tea as she carefully sipped the burning liquid.

  ‘That’s the day my life began,’ she thought. ‘I have gone from one life to another to another and now I’m here where I was meant to be. I can hardly remember what my life was like before that moment. When I pulled off the clothes I was wearing and tossed the wet heap in the trash, my old life went along with it.’

  Looking around the NICU, she felt her professional role had enabled her to function so successfully. More than her profession, medicine had become her identity. The University of Chicago Comar Children’s Hospital, had become her home and these were her people. Everyone from the nursing staff to the cleaning staff, the x-ray techs to the volunteers, were her family. She loved them all. This place and these people anchored her, allowing her to be the person she had become.

  CHAPTER 3

  ALARM

  A scream floated upward in her throat; instinctively her hands flew to her mouth, choking out any sound. Shush! Her mind commanded. Bolting upright she grasped the sheets, crumbling them in her fingers. She could hardly breathe, her heart pounded against her ribcage. It was loud and fast. Panicked she wanted to scream, she wanted to run. She had to get away. Panic spiraled through her body like a volcano erupting. Full-fledged panic! A scream emerged ‘Run! ... Move! Get out of here!’ She was terrified, ‘Run!’ the word echoed through her mind. ‘Run!’ It was the only thought she had, ‘RUN! Run, run…!’ She searched for a way out but found nothing. She searched for a place to hide. But there was none. No place to run! No place to hide! No one to help her!

  A shrill sound pulsed shattering the darkness. What was that sound? It was riveting. She couldn’t see through the blackness! Bewildered she blinked and squinted at the space around her. The clock! She flung herself onto it, fumbling for the button, returning the room to silence. Panting, frightened she lay across the now silent clock. She was confused. She’d been running. There were trees...lots of trees. She was leaping over logs and rocks….running… there was pain…she saw blood. There were men. They were running… chasing her… Terror flowed through her. Waves of terror zipped through her nervous system … shock waves jolted her… electrocution by nightmare!

  Sobs erupted as the room slowly converged with her nightmare. She rubbed her arms and face as she struggled to be fully awake, aware and present in her reality. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m safe. Breathe. No one is here.” Fear-widened-eyes cruised the calm still room. “I am safe.” She took several deep breaths, looking around. Warm beige walls capped with French Vanilla molding surrounded a corduroy chair and a cherry end table. Well-framed photographs different shapes and sizes adorned the walls with woodland scenes, tumbling waterfalls, delicate purple flowers. Faint morning light peeked through pale Roman shades. She looked around took more deep breaths. The nightmare …. Hiding… hay stacks… voices… running… falling. Stacks of memories teetered at the edge of her mind threatening to tumble and engulf her.

  She felt frozen. ‘Move,’ she told herself, ‘Get up and move.’ She always said “Movement will help. Staying stuck in your body will keep you stuck in your mind.” She tried to hear the voice saying the words, picture the face. It was kind, a bit wrinkled with a warm smile. She focused on the face, the sound and repeated the words as she pushed her silky down comforter aside and slid her legs toward the floor. Frowning she looked around. Something was wrong. She was missing… Twinkie... Where was Twinkie? Then she spotted her. Aqua eyes surrounded by long grey fur peeked out from behind the chair. “I’m sorry, Sweetie,” she said to the cat, “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she knelt down and reached for the cat, inching slowly from her hiding place. Gina cross-legged on the floor persuaded the cat to climb onto her lap. Gently she buried her face in the long soft fur and nuzzled the warm purring body. Breathing deeply, she worked to push the nightmare far back into her mind. The nightmare clung like a wet t-shirt. She felt odd and disoriented. Minutes passed as she rocked her cat slowly. Time is what I need, she thought, time to leave the night behind and move into the day.

  CHAPTER 4

  LULLABY

  The room was dim. Equipment hummed rhythmically, metallic heartbeats creating a toneless backdrop. Babies slept in their clear bassinets or incubators. Uniforms moved briskly, busy shadows mopping floors, changing IV tubes, reading charts. In a far corner, a solitary figure rocked a bundled baby, humming softly. Her clear sweet tones meandered through the space, a perfect counterpoint to the inanimate droning. ‘This is the best part of my day,’ she thought as she smiled down at the tiny face. The infant was relaxed now. Tummy full, pain receded, lulled by the warmth, the rocking motion and the lilting tones of the lullaby.

  Gina felt her tired eyes close offering relief to her burning eyes. Relaxing she felt the infant warm against her chest, tiny fists gently clenched. Sighing felt the baby sigh with her. She smiled. “You are a precious angel,” she said to the baby gently stroking her cheek, “and I’m going to get you well so you can go home to your family. Just relax sweetie you’re going to get better soon.” Rocking she sang a little prayer of healing for the infant. Few things gave her the peace and contentment that rocking these babies gave her. With a wry smile she thought, “Maybe I’ll give up my day job and become a full-time baby rocker!” She thought about her therapy session two days ago. I was in such a panic; I was a wreck! I just don’t know what’s going on with me. All of a sudden I’m like this panicky mess with nightmares and weird thoughts and memories popping up out of nowhere. That’s not who I am. That’s just not me at all. Pushing the thoughts away she took deep breath and touched her lips to the infant’s forehead as sh
e rose and placed her gently in her isolette.

  Crossing to the nursing station, she paused and checked on several of her small patients, patting or soothing them as she passed. “Hey Lupe,” she said, massaging the night shift clerk’s shoulder, “you awake, girl?”

  “I’ll give you thirty minutes to stop that!” Lupe joked leaning into the massage.

  “Your muscles are awfully tight,” Gina said, “you should see someone about that.”

  “Oh, like a real massage therapist? Lupe quipped, “On my salary?’

  “Well, who knows,” Gina smiled back, “maybe Santa will bring you a gift certificate for a massage!”

  The clerk leaned back and asked, “You gonna be my Santa, Gina?”

  “Well, have you been naughty or nice?” Gina teased settling at the computer terminal beside her.

  “I don’t know about you, doc,” Lupe said, “I swear if these babies were up for adoption you’d take the lot of them home with you!”

  Gina smiled, “You got that right, Lupe; I would adopt them all!”

  “You’ve got to get yourself some kids of your own, girl; then you’d get home at a reasonable time!” Lupe retorted.

  Yawning, Gina tapped away at the keyboard, writing clinical notes and reading lab reports that had just popped up.

  “You do know its 2:15, right Doc?” Lupe asked her, “you planning to sleep here tonight?”

  “Not tonight,” Gina smiled, “got to get home to my kitty cat. She’ll be wondering where her dinner is!”

  “You’re one bad cat Momma!” Lupe quipped as Gina left the NICU.

  The cold wind seeped through her coat as she walked through the underground garage to her 2012 Accord. She wound her way through several streets that divided the space between the hospital where she worked and the condo where she lived, singing along with Satellite radio’s soft rock tunes until she passed through her parking lot’s security gate and swung into her parking space. Suddenly exhausted, she could hardly wait to get into bed. Tomorrow was an early day so the most she could expect tonight was 4 hours of sleep. She greeted Twinkie, hurriedly fed her and switched on her answering machine.